[It feels a bit like descending into some strange otherworldly realm. Steinbeck spent some time when he was younger telling stories and tales to his younger siblings to help them sleep. In those tales, heroes often traveled to other worlds, strange places, entering areas filled with fear and wonder.]

[He sort of feels like that now. Like he's walking into a wizard's house. What things await hi? He follows the voice, occasionally pausing to glance back at the lobby he just left, before he finally enters the room.]

[The wizard's room.]

[It certainly looks like one, what with all the things scattered around, objects that Steinbeck can't even guess as to their purpose. But he's here for a man. The wizard.]

It seems kind of big for a single person. [The spaces are a bit too wide for his comfort. He approaches to the side of Royce, peering down at what he's working on.] But I guess you like it that way, don't you? You seem like the type of person who doesn't really like talking to people.